Willan: The Winter's Fury
by Deeth Irteen
Summary: Malefor is imprisoned, but he was not the only evil that plagued the Dragon Realms. A threat, both new and old, is rising up to take the Dark Master's place. New heroes must rise up to join old heroes to protect the newly reborn Dragon Realms.


_There was once a time that, when a dragon died, its spirit would become one with the world. That time has come and gone, thanks to the actions of a purple dragon..._

In the core of our world, two young dragons did battle with the Dark Master. Even as the land was torn apart in a ferocious inferno, Spyro and Cynder made their final stand.

_**"You cannot defeat me! I am eternal!"**_

Malefor unleashed a great torrent of Convexity. Spyro and Cynder fought back with blasts of their own. The three beams collided in the center, distorting the air around them as they violently clashed.

"Just... Hang... On!"

When it seemed that they would lose, the two heroes converted the last of their magical reserves into raw convexity energy. They finally sent Malefor flying backwards, toppling onto his back upon the crystal floor. Though the Dark Master was quick to recover, the convexity of the two heroes had a second effect; it summoned the spirits of the Ancestors, the very dragons who trained Malefor in ages past. Spyro and Cynder watched in fear as Malefor was dragged into the core of the world, where he would be imprisoned for hundreds of years to come.

The crystal core rumbled and shook as the inferno spread. Spyro and Cynder were stranded, with no hope of escape. They had won; and yet, they had lost.

As the two came to a landing, Cynder approached Spyro, head bent low. "Spyro, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Spyro reassured. "It's over now."

The two looked about at the destruction around them. "So this is it..."

Spyro bent his head low, eyes shut tight. Cynder watched him worriedly. Suddenly, he gasped. "I know what I need to do. Just get out of here Cynder."

"Spyro, no..." Cynder replied. "You don't have to do anything. Let's just go."

"Where, Cynder?" He snapped. "There'll be nothing left! The world is breaking apart..." Spyro looked into her eyes. "But I think I can stop it. I think I'm _meant_ to."

Cynder sighed, getting closer. "Then I'm with you."

Spyro looked at her just before closing his eyes once more. Spyro levitated off the crystal floor, wings outstretched. His body rumbled as convexity gathered in his body, illuminating him in a great purple light. As everything was engulfed in purple, Cynder approached and shut her eyes as well. With tears, she gave a low whisper.

"I love you..."

Spyro unleashed an uninmaginable flood of energy, which exploded outwards in all directions. The scattered pieces of the planet were gathered together. Slowlu bur surely, the remains of the planet were recombined. The pieces that were destoryed in the Ring of Annihilation were replaced with new ones. New continents. New Oceans. And most importantly, New Inhabitants.

In a way, Malefor's scheme was a success. The old world was gone, replaced with a new one. A new age of the dragon race had begun.

But that was not all that was given life anew...

~~...~~

There was snow everywhere. This was new. His memories of his old home, the Well of Souls, were the first thing he had to cling to life. The snow covered his scales, freezing his body. He fought with every ounce of his life to rise up and escape the cold.

"Where...?" The dragon tried to speak, but his throat was sore and aching. Every syllable was like drinking a pint of molten rock.

All around him, the dragon saw the crumbled remains of the Mountain of Malefor. The last time he was here, it was a great and mighty fortress, a testament to the Dark Master's power. But ever since Malefor was resurrected, his old fortress was left to rot. It was completely destroyed by the Golems, and burned into ashes by the Ring of Anihilation. So why was there snow here? Why couldn't the dragon remember anything else? Why couldn't...?

And like a bolt of lightning, everyhting came back to him. His past life. His years of trying to gain the Dark Master's approval. The day his horns were shattered... And his name.

"This place..." The dragon found that speaking was no long beyond his ability. "I died here."

The dragon stood tall on four feet, opening his eyes for the first time. He stretched out his limbs, hearing the bones cracking into place. He unfolded his leathery wing, giving them several test flaps.

"These can't be mine. They were torn apart."

As the dragon investigated his body, he found that thecold no longer hurt him; he couldn't feel so much as a speck on his nostrils. The dragon looked to the cold, black sky. The stars encircled the Twin Moons, and off to the east he could see the constellation of a flying dragon. The northern skies were blocked by the scattered remains of the mountain...

No. There were no remains. His mind must have been playing tricks on him. Before him was, in fact, a mountain. The biggest mountain he had ever seen in his life. Its peak pierced the heavens, becoming one with the night itself. And at the foot of the mountain, there sat a great, wide opening. Something in the keep called to the dragon; a familier presence hung in the air, beckoning for him to come deeper.

_"Come, little dragonling... We're waiting for you..."_

With nowhere else to go, the dragon marched into the keep, unsure of what he might find. The mountain had a number of passageways, chambers and corridors, all of which twisted and turned throughout the interior of the mountain. While they had passing resemblance to the Well of Souls, there were far too many and too deep for it to be the same. The dragon almost feared he would become lost. But the nagging presence from before still called to him, leading him on his way towards it.

After travelling for what felt like hours, the dragon came upon his destination. It was a great, wide crevice in the earth beneath the mountain, wider than the entirety of the old Well of Souls. An aura of strange, unseen magics floated through the air; the source of the beckoning presence. Down below, the dragon could see a glowing, green light at the bottom of the crevice. As he approachd, the dragon sense the presence circling around him. With another flash of lightning, the dragon remembered what he needed to do. Backed away from the crevice, and reached deep within himself, drawing forth an ancient magic.

"Poison, Shadow, Wind and Fear. I command you to find me here."

The air became warm. The presence started circling around the dragon, gaining speed. The ground started to rumble and shake. The presence broke apart into four separate entities, which took the form of elemental wraiths. They each reached into the dragon's chest, digging deep into his spirit. The dragon howled in pain as they carved apart his flesh and magic, forming new bodies for themselves. The dragon collapsed, gasping and coughing up blood as four new dragons stood tall around him.

"So, we're finally alive again." The grey dragon said, a metallic tinge to his voice.

"All thanks to HIM, of all people." The dark red dragon scoffed, motioning to the fallen drake. He and his comrades shared the same off-putting tinge.

"He's still alive." The female said, placing a paw on the fallen's chest.

"It really must've taken its toll on him." The green dragon mused.

"Well then, let's find out what's happened out there!" The dark red dragon turned to fly out.

"Wait, you fool." The green dragon snapped. "We can't leave him behind."

"But he's-"

"-The key to our survival." The green drake leaned down and grasped the fallen one, setting him on his haunches. "You. Open your eyes."

The weak drake looked about at the foursome. Their eyes were unnaturally yellow, with dillated irises. Their horns were cracked and rotten. A feint aroma of decay and mailce hung about their forms. The weak dragon took deep breaths, fighting back against the odor. He coughed again, more blood pouring from his lips. It was all he could do to keep from collapsing agian.

"Can you speak?" The green dragon demanded.

"... Yes." He said weakly.

"Good. Now, since the ritual proved a success, this means you rely on US as much as we rely on you. Understand?"

"... Yes." The weak dragon repeated.

"Good. So, have you remembered your name?"

The weakened dragon took a deep, raspy breath. He thought for a while, racking his brain. He ran through his memories over and over for his name, but whenever he came close, it was as if a black void took its place.

"This is fruitless." The dark red dragon scoffed. "How is he supposed to be our leader if he can't even remember his name?!"

"Give him time..." The dragoness said.

After going over his memories over and over again, the fallen dragon came to the day he died. With another flash of lightning, he came upon his name. "... Zevren."

The grey dragon grinned. "Well then, Zevren, the time has finally come to prove your worth. Come; let's show the dragon realms what your power can really do."

"Okay..." The weak dragon was turned to face the entryway. He was led forwards by the grey and green dragons, who were flanked by the other two dragons. The weak dragon felt too tired to speak, his eyes down cast. His final memories played back over and over as he thought to himself.

_Zevren. My name is Zevren._


End file.
